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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856529">Housecat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BushRat8/pseuds/Stormvo%C3%ABl'>Stormvoël (BushRat8)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cat hunting birds, F/M, Nature, Nature is not always pretty, Pet Cat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:55:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BushRat8/pseuds/Stormvo%C3%ABl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon his arrival at Grantham House, Barbossa is unexpectedly greeted by a hissing bundle of ginger fur.  While Sophie is fond of it, one of its habits upsets her, and she must face that nature's ways are sometimes rough.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hector Barbossa/Original Female Character(s), Hector Barbossa/Sophie Grantham, Hector Barbossa/The Innkeeper of Grantham House</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Housecat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Rock pigeons (which we would identify as city or feral pigeons) have a huge year-round range which includes the Caribbean.  They were introduced into North America in the 1600s and spread quickly from there.  Not all are the familiar grey with iridescent pink-and-green at the neck;  they come in every variation of color, which is due to gene mutation.  Along with mourning doves, they were (and still are) hunted extensively for food. </p><p>Tip:  if you ever get into a staring competition with a cat, do not back down.  Stare right back until the cat turns its head;  that's how you know you've won.  If you've ever wondered why cats always seem to jump in the laps of people who are afraid of them, that's why:  because fearful people won't look them in the eye.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-oOo-</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It's a long slog up the hill after months at sea, and Barbossa is dead on his feet.  He's dreaming of good food and drink, a warm bath, and more than one vigorous tumble in bed, but what does he find instead, confronting him at the entrance to Grantham House and refusing to let him pass?</p><p>"Dove!"  he calls, eyeing the teeth the cat presents to him, along with a long, low meow and a hiss.  "Sophia, ye there?  Ye've an orange beast at yer door what's lookin' t' take a bite outta me shin!"</p><p>Sophie appears, wiping her hands on her apron, and scoops up the cat, cradling it against her bosom as she kisses her Captain hello.  "I see you've met Miss Blaze."</p><p>The cat's paw stretches toward Barbossa, claws extended, to go with another growl.  "I don't think she likes me."</p><p>"Oh, nonsense, Hector,"  Sophie replies with a grin.  "She just doesn't know you yet."  She tickles Blaze under the chin, which results in the cat closing her eyes and elongating her neck for more.  "A scratch behind the ear might put you in better stead,"  she prompts.</p><p>Slowly, Barbossa puts a single long-nailed finger to the base of Blaze's ear, carefully grazing the furry flesh, and the cat's reaction is instantaneous:  her whole body relaxes and droops, claws retracted and teeth no longer on display.  "See?"  teases Sophie.  "It doesn't take much to make her happy."</p><p>"So, when did ye acquire th' cat?"  Barbossa asks her.</p><p>"I didn't;  she acquired me."  Putting Blaze on the floor, Sophie takes Barbossa's arm and leads him to their favored relaxing place — the settee — after which she brings him a tankard of ale and sits down beside him.  "A few weeks ago, I had an invasion of rats trying to get into the kitchen, but lo and behold, a big ginger mouser turned up at the back door.  I gave her a name and let her sleep in the house by the fire, I give her a cuddle now and again, and in return, she has all the vermin she can eat, plus a dish of milk each day."</p><p>Barbossa's not sure if he's convinced.  "So she's not takin' th' affections ye might have for me?" </p><p>"Oh, Hector!  Hector…"  Sophie presses her forehead to his shoulder and giggles.  "Of course not.  She's a <em>cat</em>, my love, and I enjoy having her around, but she's not you."  Then she grimaces.  "Besides, you don't have the awful habit of trying to impress me by leaving gutted birds on the doorstep."</p><p>It's Barbossa's turn to tsk in sympathy as he puts his tankard down and takes Sophie into his arms, for it's something new he discovered about her not too long ago:  that she's immensely fond of birds;  that the preparation of chickens, ducks, geese, and mourning doves for the pot or roasting spit is something she finds distressing, a feeling that's grown stronger the older she gets.  But it's a necessity she can't get around, so she puts aside her reservations, dispatches them as quickly and painlessly as possible, shows her respect by preparing them for the table in as fine a manner as she can, and saves her admiration for the many wild birds that populate the island.  "I got plenty of bad habits, t' be certain, but that bain't one of 'em, so while I'm here, I'm make sure Missy Blaze ain't givin' ye any unwanted gifts."</p><p>It's a promise he has to make good on sooner than expected when, while sprawled in the backyard hammock, he spots the cat go trotting toward the kitchen door, a gory white-and-gold rock pigeon in her teeth.  "Ah, no ye don't!"  he barks, clambering out of the waves of striped cloth.  "Give it here!"</p><p>The sudden sound of his gravelly voice causes Blaze to drop the bird and race to the bushes;  none too soon, as Sophie comes out not ten seconds after Barbossa wraps the pigeon in his grubby handkerchief.  "Take yerself back in, Dove,"  he says softly. </p><p>Sophie sees the gouts of blood staining the frayed grey cloth, and she presses her lips together.  "I wish she'd confine herself to the rats,"  she sighs.</p><p>"I know, darlin', an' I know yer soft sensibilities be hurtin' o'er it.  But she's a cat, an' chasin' down birds… well, 'tis in th' nature of cats t' go after feathered things."  Barbossa hesitates, for he was going to dispose of the carcass by slinging it down the hillside, but then has a better idea.  "Would it hurt yer heart less were I t' take th' bird out int' th' trees an' give it t' th' sun an' rain, or t' such as won't bring it back t' th' house?"</p><p>Sophie knows what he's trying to say:  that the bird will most likely be eaten by one of the island's large lizards, another bird, or any one of the wild animals that share the island with its human inhabitants, but at least it will be food for them and not a trophy for Blaze.  "Would you?"</p><p>"'Course, m' sweet."  Barbossa kisses Sophie's forehead, then touches his lips to her ear.  "I'll do it now."</p><p> </p><p>-oOo-<br/>-oOo-</p><p> </p><p>Being used to killing in battle, as well as learning as a child to hunt, trap, and fish for his food, Barbossa is startled by the feelings stirred up by the stillness of the soft feathered body in his hands.  In particular, he's touched by the delicacy of the feet, the toes curled in death, their talons useless.  He'd intended merely to leave the pigeon at the base of a tree some distance from the inn and then leave, but something compels him to stay for awhile to see what happens.</p><p>It's not long before the ants find it, swarming over the bird to take bits back to their hills, but they're soon displaced by a skinny coyote.  The pigeon might be the best meal it's had in a long time, and Barbossa nods thoughtfully to himself:  <em>So, th' pidge served a good purpose in th' end</em>.</p><p>Strolling back to the inn, he finds Sophie in the midst of cooking;  not poultry today, but fish and mutton chops.  "Ye may set yer heart at ease,"  he says, going up behind her and kissing her neck.  "The bird made a good meal for some ants an' a four-foot what looked like it ain't eaten in awhile."</p><p>This is a good outcome, and a ghost of a smile crosses Sophie's face.</p><p>"When Missy Blaze does it again — an' she will,"  Barbossa goes on,  "d' ye think ye might have th' grit t' handle it th' same way?"</p><p>The cat appears in the doorway as if daring either human to cross her on her liking for hunting birds, but Sophie stares back until Blaze backs down and slinks away.  "Aye, I think so."</p><p>Another kiss.  "That's m' brave Sophia.  Jus' remember:  ye're feedin' somethin', like ye feed yer lodgers, so th' bird bain't goin' t' waste."</p><p>It will still be hard for Sophie for, as Barbossa notes, she has a soft heart and loves the sound and beauty of birds, but if Blaze acts out her cat nature, as she no doubt will, then she must learn to do as he did today.  But he'll be on hand to help her through it at least once more before he leaves;  to show her it's a thoughtful thing to do;  something even he, with his rough ways, understands.   </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-oOo-   FIN   -oOo-</p><p> </p>
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